Remembering Stags

Where do you start? 

Do you start with what a great basketball player he was? What a great teammate he was? 

Do you flashback to all the shots he hit, and all the shots he forced opponents not to hit? 

Or maybe you talk about him as a person. You liked him from Day 1. He was tough and strong and yet caring and understated. He was fierce on the court. He was quiet, considerate, appreciative, funny away from it. These qualities made him a teammate and a great young man.

Hey, you can even talk about all the times you'd seen him since, all the times he was in Jadwin with his father. All the handshakes and the smiles and the good wishes. All the times you saw him, mentioned the graying hair, talked about the families, remembered what he had been a part of as a Princeton Tiger.

Then you realize it doesn't really matter. 

You can start wherever you want. It doesn't take long to come back to the present, to think about the moment you heard the news, to shake your head one more time at the unfairness, the senselessness, the sadness.

James Mastaglio was one of the best all-around players Princeton men's basketball has ever seen. He was part of one of the program's most glorious eras. TigerBlog can't think of one even remotely negative interaction he ever had with the man they called "Stags."

And now he's gone. 

How is it possible? Make it make sense. 

James Mastaglio, a husband, father of two, son, teammate and friend to so many, passed away earlier this week. He was only 47 years old.

TigerBlog got the news Tuesday morning. He had to reach it twice, three times, four times — and still he refused to believe it. Stags was gone? No way.

TB last saw him in February, when Mastaglio and his teammates and coaches from the 1996-98  teams gathered in Jadwin Gym to be honored 25 years after they'd won three straight Ivy League titles, won their NCAA opener twice, moved into the national rankings and drew sell-out crowds to their home building every night. They were as big a story as there was in college basketball in 1997-98, when they went 27-2 and finished the regulars season ranked eighth nationally.

When you think of that team, you think of Steve Goodrich's near-perfection of the Princeton center position, of Mitch Henderson and his ability to throw ridiculous lookaway passes with either hand, of Brian Earl's silky three-point shooting, of Gabe Lewullis' unstoppable scoring, rebounding and defense. 

Do you think of Mastaglio first? Probably not.

And he was fine with that. He just went out every night, game after game after game, and did everything right. He could do it all. 

Dick Vitale was enamored of him. He had him on his "All-Glue" team, basically as high a compliment as you can pay to a player. It's saying that you are the one who holds everyone else together.

For his career, Mastaglio actually shot better than 50 percent from the field, something extraordinary for someone who took so many outside shots. He stood 6-5, but he could guard players much smaller or much taller. He once played all 55 minutes of a triple-overtime game (a win over Texas A&M). He held the record for most points by a Princeton freshman in his first game for 14 years.

When North Carolina came to Jadwin Gym his junior year, Stags — who had been coming off the bench that season but was thrown into the starting lineup when Henderson had to miss the game after the death of his father — led Princeton with 18 points, shooting 7 for 9 from the field and 4 for 5 from three-point range. 

The memories of Mastaglio the player, etched into Princeton basketball history, will always be there. He has a well-earned, well-deserved place as one of the leaders of those teams that made such an impact on the basketball world.

Mastaglio the person? 

It doesn't get much better. 

He was a Long Island kid, from Garden City. He talked like one, that's for sure. He had a quality about him from the time he first stepped into Jadwin. It was just as TB said before, the on-court Mastaglio and the off-court Mastaglio. 

TB saw Mastaglio at Jadwin countless times since he graduated, usually with his father Peter. They were a great pair, from the time the son was a player at Princeton all the way through the last time TB saw him.

When TB saw the news, it was chilling, unbelievable.

He immediately thought of all the guys with whom Stags played, the ones who called him "Big Game James." Through all the years that have passed, the members of those teams have only grown closer. Henderson is obviously the head coach now. Even Brian Earl, the Cornell head coach, is still a huge part of their circle. TB isn't sure there is a closer group of alums than the ones from those teams.  

How did they react to the news? 

He was especially heartbroken for Peter, and for Mastaglio's wife Bridgette and his children, 11-year-old Olivia and eight-year-old Kellan. How could they possible deal with this? 

The children will have to go the rest of their lives knowing that they only had a short time with their father. They'll mention how their father passed away when they were young. 

Hopefully, though, they'll remember him as what he was: a great basketball player and a great person. 

There will certainly be enough people around who can remind them. 

They can ask TigerBlog if they want. He'll tell them that there haven't been many more impressive people around here in all the years he's been at Princeton than James Mastaglio.

At one point yesterday, Stags' teammate Sean Gregory told TB he had a few photos he could use if he needed any. Gregory then texted one to TB.

When he looked at the attachment, he saw a smiling Mastaglio, on a golf course, giving a thumbs up. It made TB smile at first, and then it made him tear up a bit.

And that's how it is. 

You can start wherever you want. You can smile at his smiling picture. 

In the end, James Mastaglio is gone, way, way, way too soon. 

Make it make sense.